


what's real and what's not?

by jennshiki



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Confusion, Decapitation, Druids, Illusions, Torture, lance is captured by the galra, not many details of torture tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 08:32:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8482648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennshiki/pseuds/jennshiki
Summary: Lance sat in his cell, humming weakly through clenched teeth. Each shuddering breath he took caused his injuries to sting like fire. There was not a single visible patch of skin that was not covered with blue purple bruises. In addition, he had a broken leg, broken arm, twisted ankle, and a stab wound in his shoulder. His ribs were probably fractured as well. And more injuries were to come later that day when they pulled him back out for more questioning. And by questioning, he meant torture.





	

Lance sat in his cell, humming weakly through clenched teeth. Each shuddering breath he took caused his injuries to sting like fire. There was not a single visible patch of skin that was not covered with blue purple bruises. In addition, he had a broken leg, broken arm, twisted ankle, and a stab wound in his shoulder. His ribs were probably fractured as well. And more injuries were to come later that day when they pulled him back out for more questioning. And by questioning, he meant torture.

It was supposed to be an easy mission for team Voltron, but everything had gone wrong. It took too much effort to try to remember all the details, so Lance tried not to think. Because if he did try to think, he would remember the tight panic that seized his chest, his weakness that made him unable to do anything, the screams of his friends, blood, death, and chaos.

Hopefully everyone had all made it back to the castle. Hope. It was all Lance had left, and even that was starting to disappear.  
Lance didn’t know how long it had been. A week? A month? Sendak had captured the blue lion for Zarkon. His lion, that he failed to protect. Regret and frustration stirred in his heart, adding to the immeasurable pain that he was alarmingly getting used to. 

All the different types of pain all over his body had blended into this one steady thrum of pure agony. It hurt to do anything. It hurt to _live_.

He distinctly remembered his friends, their horrified expressions. Especially Keith’s, which had surprised him. Lance didn’t realize that Keith’s broody face was capable of showing so much fear.

He still remembered Allura’s voice, warped by static as it screamed into his ear through the comms. They had tried so hard to save him, and failed. If they hadn’t tried to save him, they probably could’ve taken out more galra troops and lessened the damage on the planet they were on. In a way, much of the chaos was Lance’s fault. If he’d just been more careful, he wouldn’t be here. 

Still, the thought had given him a warm feeling on the first days after his capture. His friends had tried to save him. They cared about him, a lot. But as he sat there in the cold, dark cell, alone with his pain day after day, the warmth that came with that thought had disappeared. His friends had tried so hard to save him, because he was in the blue lion. They needed Blue to form Voltron. The lion was irreplaceable, unlike Lance. There was nothing much worth saving about him.

Lance wondered what his teammates were doing right now. Did they miss him? Were they trying to rescue him? That thought no longer raised his hopes. It had been a long time. Too long. They probably thought he was dead, and Lance couldn’t help but think that they didn’t even care. If they hadn’t given up yet, it was only because they had no choice, and that they needed to retrieve the lion. But Lance? Him? He was dispensable. He probably wasn’t even in their plans. They’d find the ship with the lion, take it back, and leave. They had no time nor did they need to save Lance. And honestly, he didn’t blame them.

In fact, the more he thought about it, the more he thought that it was better this way. It wasn’t like he contributed much to the team. Maybe it would’ve been better if he had died. Then they could find a new paladin that was much better suited for the job than he was. He was just a child, a stupid selfish one who wanted to go home when the fate of the universe rested on his shoulders. He talked too much, made stupid jokes, never took anything seriously. If he was anybody else, he’d probably be glad that he was gone. It’s not like anybody was going to cry over his absence.

Lance closed his eyes and tried to picture the faces of his friends in his mind, as he had done countless times. And just like all the times before, he would be dismayed to find that it was hard to remember them. Their faces and voices were all slipping away into a fog. His efforts to remember were like trying to hold water with his hands. It just flows out through the spaces between your fingers that you can’t fill.

It felt like Lance had been prisoner on this ship all his life. With no physical object tied to his memories of happiness, it was hard to believe that those times were even real. It was the same routine every single day. He’d sit because moving was too painful, and wait until they dragged him out to try to beat out the secrets he refused to tell. 

He sighed, and immediately regretted it when it amplified the constant aching that seemed to have had made a permanent home in his body. It burned like fire. His whole body was on fire and it was only about time that he would burn to death.  
But Zarkon wouldn’t let that happen. They kept him in condition well enough so that he would not die, but just barely. They didn’t bother to cure his pain.

Lance didn’t want his team to save him anymore, didn’t want some miracle to happen. Didn’t want to be saved by some knight in shining armor. That wasn’t what he prayed for at night. The only thing Lance wanted now, was the sweet release of death. An infinite emptiness, devoid of any pain.

The sound of keys clacking against cell bars derailed his train of thought, and told Lance that it was time for his daily session with Zarkon. He heard the creaky door swing open, and looked up tiredly to see two galra soldiers marching towards him.

For the first few days after he had been captured, Lance had laughed at the soldiers, only to get kicked in the gut. He wouldn’t let their actions deter his will though. After about a week, he traded laughter in for a smirk. It was less painful. Another week passed by, and his smirk became a glare. Now? Lance was too tired of everything. He just looked up at them with a blank look, suppressing the urge to cry out from pain when they forcefully pulled him up from the ground and dragged him along.

Lance closed his eyes as he followed the soldiers obediently. He didn’t need his eyes to know when he had arrived. He’d memorized the number of agonizing steps it took to reach the room where Zarkon would try to, sometimes quite literally, drill the answers out of Lance.

“Greetings again, blue paladin. Do you have the answers I am looking for this time?”

By now, it was as if he was merely following a script. There was no strength or defiance behind his words anymore. It’s just what he said every time, every day.

“No.”  
-

Lance didn’t remember a single thing that happened. It was like his mind short-circuited and deleted the events that happened during that hour. Maybe it was like fending off a virus. If Lance remembered, it would break him. Not that there was much left to break.

The only signs that he had met with Zarkon was that there was significantly more pain that resulted with every step he took, and the rawness of his throat, an indication that he had been screaming. A lot.  
-

When Lance was pushed back into his cell, he was on the brim of unconsciousness, an unnatural sleep threatening to take over. The pain had steadily increased the longer he walked, and now it was so overwhelmingly strong that Lance could barely even stay conscious.   
An invisible force was pushing at his eyelids, tugging at reality, but even if he tried to let it lull him into sleep, the searing pain all over his body kept him awake. Needles pricked at his eyes every time he opened them, so he kept them closed. With every ragged breath he took, it felt as if he just couldn’t get enough air. And if he tried to breathe in more forcefully, the extent of the pain would probably knock him out completely. 

He choked on a dry sob, no tears left for him to cry out. It hurt so much, everything hurt so, so much. The pain, the loneliness. What did he do to deserve this? He just wanted to go home, where he’d be safe in his bed, falling asleep to the quiet ocean waves outside his window. His mom would come up and kiss him goodnight, and he’d lay there in a comfortable, soft darkness. Nothing like the pitch black of the galra ship, occasionally lit up by dim light, a menacing shade of purple. 

The darkness brightened, and Lance peeked out through a small crack between his eyes. His cell door was opened, revealing two galra soldiers who stepped forward to yank Lance off the ground. He whimpered, and followed helplessly. More questioning? Twice in one day?   
They dragged him through the halls, heading a different direction to a place that Lance had never been before. Lance was scared. He didn’t want to go.

It seemed like forever until they finally stopped walking, and Lance was wheezing, eyes watery, body burning. A single step caused so much pain. Pain. That’s all his days were filled with now. 

He kept his eyes closed, but they were forced open when someone slammed him into a chair. He screamed at the force of the impact and his eyes snapped open to see a druid. 

“I’ve heard you’ve been a very naughty boy, blue paladin. Why don’t you just give us the answers we seek, and I’ll make all your pain go away?”

Lance was almost broken enough to agree. But then all the suffering he went through would be for nothing, and he could never betray his friends. They were the universe’s last hope. As much as Lance wished he was, he wasn’t that selfish.

“No,” he managed, his voice a raspy croak. 

There was a cackling laugh that made Lance want to cut off his ears. 

“I hoped you might say that.”

A single, gnarly purple finger landed on Lance’s forehead. And then his vision flashed a blinding white, then fading out, revealing….his friends. Hunk, Pidge, everyone was there but Allura and Coran. A small glimmer of hope resurfaced, only to be quickly crushed. His friends were chained up, and now taking a closer look, Lance could see that their bodies were bruised, bloodied, and battered. Unmoving. 

“These are your friends. We have already captured them, there is no need to keep any more secrets,” hissed the druid from inside his mind. 

“If you cooperate, we will promise you a happy life within the Galra Empire, free of pain. You have nothing to lose.”

“No,” repeated Lance. That seemed to be the only word he said anymore. 

The druid appeared before him in a haze of black smoke, and it walked towards his friends. Lance would have reached a hand out, but he knew it was useless. So he just watched in the shadows, as the druid stepped up to Pidge.

“Dear, do you have anything to say to your fellow blue paladin?” asked the druid, raising Pidge’s chin with its fingers. 

“L-Lance?” came Pidge’s voice, weak and small. 

Lance shivered. Pidge sounded so frail, none of her strong personality present in her voice.

“I’ll never find my brother and father now. My mom will be all alone not knowing what happened to me, and it’s all because of you!” she screamed, the words tumbling out of her mouth. Her eyes were twitching, so angry and defeated, staring out at nothing in particular. “If only you weren’t the blue paladin, this would never have happened. You’re mistakes have cost the universe. I hate you!”

Lance shut his eyes and laughed. This wasn’t real. That was so obvious. Pidge would never say any of those things. That wasn’t even the way she talked. Still, the mind believes only what it sees. And Lance saw Pidge screaming at him. _It will only hurt if you let it hurt you_ , thought Lance, repeating the phrase in his head like a mantra. 

“If you had just listened to me and not have gone to save Shiro, we would still be on Earth,” came Hunk’s voice. “Lance, you really messed up this time! It’s your fault that we’re here.” 

Lance shook his head. It wasn’t his fault. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real. It looked real. It sounded real. It felt real. But it’s not real. Lance took a shuddering breath. _It will only hurt you if you let it hurt you_. He couldn’t let the druid win. 

“You’re such a disappointment,” growled Shiro. 

Lance hummed a song.

“You’re not good at anything! You call yourself my rival? Yeah right. You don’t have any special skills, you’re a talentless idiot who can’t do a single thing right,” spat Keith.

Lance hummed louder, his voice shaking. He knew this was fake. An illusion. Obviously, right? His friends would never say those things to him. He knew it. But when was the last time he had seen his friends? His memory was hazy too…..but no. This. Was. Not. Real.

“Still trying to feign strength?” sneered the druid. 

It walked over to his friends, and Lance slammed his eyes shut, realizing what was about to happen. He didn’t close his eyes nearly fast enough, and he caught a glimpse of the druid raising its arms, and bringing something that looked like a whip down on Pidge. 

Her piercing screams bored into Lance’s head, and he found himself sliding down and curling up into a ball. He couldn’t stop his body from trembling, and he found it so very hard to breathe, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

There was another crack and a scream, from Hunk. Lance let out a pitiful sound. Shiro screamed next.

Lance had never heard Shiro scream before. He was always the calm, composed one who kept everyone in order. Lance shook his head, pulling his legs even closer into his body. Everything was cold and numb, like a blanket was wrapped tightly around him, cutting off any circulation. He was vaguely aware of the physical pain from his injuries, but right now his mind was a mess. Lance knew this was fake. But doubt was starting to worm its way into Lance’s head, no matter how hard he tried to keep it out.

“Stop, please stop,” rasped Lance. “No more.”

There was another crack. Lance heard Keith cry out. Not quite a scream, and Lance couldn’t ever imagine Keith screaming anyways. But his reaction made this feel all the more real, and Lance was reaching a breaking point. 

Lance was so scared. “I just want to go home. I just want to go home. I just want to go home,” he mumbled, barely audible. 

More screams, this time from multiple of his friends at once, echoed through the small room. Lance breathed and forced himself to calm down, trying to think reasonably. There was no use in being upset. He couldn’t do anything about it, and letting the druid get to him was only harming himself. _It will only hurt if you let it hurt you._

“Hm, you’re doing better than expected. Looks like I’ll have to change tactics.”

There was what felt like a gust of wind, and Lance opened his eyes to see that the setting had changed. He was in his cell, and the door was open, revealing Keith standing by the entryway. 

“Lance? Oh my god, Lance are you okay?” asked Keith, rushing forward.

Lance blinked in confusion. 

“I’m so sorry it took us this long. Everybody’s here now, to save you. You’re going to be okay. Can you walk?”

Keith reached his hands out to help Lance to his feet. Lance wanted to shake his hands away. Because this was all in his head. It was the druid’s illusion, magic, whatever it was. Something bad was going to happen. But he was only human, and his soul couldn’t help but cling to the only hope it had. 

So Lance let Keith help him up. When he somehow managed to find balance on his two shaking legs, he gasped at the pain that seemed to radiate from every bone in his body. 

“Oh geez, what did they do to you?” mumbled Keith in a pained voice. 

Keith let Lance lean against him, and slowly but surely began to lead him out of the cell. Into the light. Lance was going home. Haha. No he wasn’t. But the illusion wasn’t going to disappear until it was finished, regardless of whether Lance played along or not. So he chose to play along.

Lance stared at Keith as they walked. He was exactly as Lance remembered. _Druid magic is pretty dang cool_ , thought Lance distractedly, finding his lips turning up into a bitter smile. 

But it really was amazing. All this detail in an illusion. Lance could see Keith crystal clearly. The purple grey of his eyes was exactly the same, his ugly black mullet was the right length, his hair resting a few centimeters below his ear. Lance could feel Keith’s body heat, could hear his controlled breathing, could see him, could even smell the faint scent of the castle on Keith’s armor. It was hard for Lance to wrap his mind around the fact that this was all merely an illusion.

The fake Keith seemed to notice Lance staring, and turned his head.

“Is something wrong?”

A warm nostalgic feeling rose in Lance’s chest, and he pulled Keith into a hug. He could feel Keith’s muscles tensing in surprise for a second, and then relaxing. 

It felt so dang real. Lance wanted to scream out in frustration, wanted to make the druid pay for playing with his feelings like this. Because even if he wanted to deny it, it wouldn’t change the fact that this was all fake. The Keith who Lance was hugging was not really Keith.

Keith hugged back, holding Lance gently in his arms. Lance tried to detach himself from the moment, reminding himself that this was all in his head. The work of magic. But it was impossible for Lance not to feel at ease and almost safe again.

Of course, Lance should’ve known that that was the whole point of the illusion. To give him a sense of safety and comfort, only to strip it away leaving him feeling more empty than ever. 

But see, he did know. That’s why he kept his guard up. But he wasn’t nearly prepared enough when a galra laser shot out from somewhere within the shadows and sliced right through Keith’s neck, severing his head off. The laser missed Lance by just an inch. He could feel the hairs on his neck standing up, slightly singed from being in such close proximity with the powerful laser. 

Of course he was much better off than Keith, who had been _decapitated._ Lance stared with silent horror and disbelief, unable to look away, as Keith’s headless body toppled to the ground with a crash. Blood was pooling, and Keith’s head was faced upwards, his eyes still open. 

The image before him was so unreal, so vivid. Lance felt bile rising in his throat, and his legs felt weak. Without Keith to lean on, and nothing else to support him, his shaky legs gave in and dropped him where he stood. He fell to the ground, landing hard in the slippery blood. 

It was still warm. Lance groaned and recoiled, but his hands were already stained with the sticky crimson. He frantically ran his hands repeatedly over the ground that was still untouched by the blood, but it didn’t dull the color of the red that had enveloped his hands.  
The disgusting red coating made his fingers feel stiff every time he moved them. 

Lance didn’t want to look at the blood, didn’t want to feel it. But he had no choice. It wouldn’t come off, and the only other place to look besides his hands, was at Keith. Keith, who had his head separated from his body. That was something that happened in books, in movies. Seeing it in real life was not something that was ever a part of Lance’s plans. And even if this was merely an illusion, seemed so real. Too real. When would this be over? 

But it didn’t end. Nothing happened, and Lance just sat there next to his friend’s head and headless body. Despite that the hallway was very wide, Lance felt claustrophobic, and could see the walls starting to close in. 

It must’ve been part of the illusion, because Keith’s body started to move closer towards him as well. Lance whimpered and slid back, trying to get as far away as possible. But as the walls kept closing in, there was nowhere left to go, and soon Lance felt his hand brush by Keith’s cold arm. Lance squeezed his eyes shut, but the illusion was in his mind and he could still see everything the same, if not clearer. 

The metallic smell of blood hung heavy in the air, and Lance choked on it every time he breathed. It was mixed with the stench of death. He’d never smelled death before, but when he smelled the putrid scent, he recognized it immediately.

It seemed like days, months, _years_ , before everything around him dispersed, floating off in a cloud, and he found himself back in the chair in the room with the druid. Except the druid was no longer paying attention to him, and alarms were blaring, blinding red lights flashing from the outside. 

“Voltron lions and paladins detected within range. All available troops are to go immediately, making the capture top priority,” boomed a voice over an intercom.

“Get the blue paladin back to his cell, and send extra guards,” ordered the druid.

The two galra soldiers who had brought him, grabbed ahold of his arms and started to pull him away.

He clenched his teeth and sweat formed along his skin as he tried his best to ignore the pain. Instead, he focused his thoughts somewhere else, on the announcement. Were his friends really here? Finally, after all this time? Or was this just part of the illusion?

Lance realized that he could no longer tell reality from false. The illusion had been so real, there was no difference between then and now. Was this just another part of it? Or was he back to reality? Lance had no way to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> obviously this isn't finished, i thought i'd post what i had since i wrote this a while ago
> 
> if i find motivation/time i'll finish it and upload it as chapter 2
> 
> this was mainly for writing practice ! lowkey happy w how it turned out


End file.
